


A Little More

by Bugaboos



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: AND if you've read my other fics you know I'm all about that hope and shit, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, I swear it won't be too bad, but please never fear!, that and language will be why it's rated mature, this will be maybe a little more angsty than my other fics, trust that there will still be, uhhh hmm warnings for alcohol and substance abuse?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-01 23:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugaboos/pseuds/Bugaboos
Summary: A short, post-game, sort-of redemption arc very much based on the song A Little More by Eric Hutchinson.Your childhood friend has moved back home and he's not doing so well. You're hoping you can help. A collection of visits to each other's apartments.





	1. When the buzz starts wearing off

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah! If you follow my fics, you may have noticed I'm in a bit of a writer's block. I think I burned myself out putting out two nearly 50K word fics so fast. So, as a way of easing myself back into it, here's this. I listened to the song this fic is named after on repeat so much after I heard it in the latest season of Orange is the New Black. I dunno, it just seemed like a very Guzma-ish song to me. 
> 
> I kinda just needed to do something short that wasn't attached to anything else and sorta just... I'm not sure? Give me room to just blurt something out? Do what I want with it? Not that my other fics aren't what I want, but this one isn't as meticulously planned and is more just me trying to get myself to do something again. It's just for fun. Not on test. You know? 
> 
> After this, I'll be doing my damnedest to get back to Skull in the Family. It's a prequel to my fic Beauty and the Boss and if you wanna make my day, you should totally go check it out so that I can believe people are interested in seeing it continue. 
> 
> Anywho, thanks for sticking through my ramblings, and now on to this fic. As stated in the tags, this one might be a little more angsty, but have faith! I never leave anything on a bad note.

You knock again on the door, but there's still no answer. Was he even here? Why would he ask you to come over if he's not even home? You shuffle nervously in front of Guzma's apartment, glancing around in the dark. The neighborhood isn't great, but you figure he probably can't afford much. How long had he been back? A couple weeks? You thought the two of you would meet up at some point, but not like this. 

You fish out your phone from your pocket, anxiously checking the screen. No new messages. You flick through your most recent texts, including very badly slurred and misspelled ones from Guzma. 

_hey_  
_can youg coem ober_  
_I just needf to make sureg its aa; ok_  
_ia'm sorry fits been so long_  
_Im sorru for l a lot much and i just waented to talk_  
_can you comve here?  
if nto it's ok _

You frown down at your phone. Yeah, this was definitely unexpected. About as unexpected as his previous texts before those ones in which he told you he'd disbanded Team Skull and was moving back to Hau'oli city. 

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_Guess we'll be paling around again, huh?_ Those texts were lighthearted and friendly. As if the two of you weren't mostly strangers now. As if he hadn't been involved with so much trouble since he left. For two people who came from the same place, where you both wound up couldn't be more different. Both your parents lived on route two, so you'd grown up knowing of each other, but you didn't become friends until you took the island trials with him and Kukui. The three of you were the same age and so were scheduled to leave at the same time. Having no one else, you decided to stick together. 

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Until things sort of fell apart. None of you ever became captains like you talked about. Guzma never even completed the trials, after growing frustrated and throwing in the towel. Kukui went on to become a professor and you - well, there was the berry farm and you are the berry farmer's daughter. That was a fate you couldn't outrun. Not even by finding your own apartment in Hau'oli away from your parents. 

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You and Guzma kept in contact, but it grew more and more infrequent. When he left home and ran off to who knows where, it became nothing at all. You sought him out when whispers of Team Skull and who exactly their leader was reached you. But he'd been so unwilling to reconnect with you; seeming almost embarrassed for you to know what he was up to. 

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And now? Well, now here you are standing at his door in the middle of the night and no one is answering. Was there something wrong? Why had his texts been so jumbled? You sigh and put your phone back in your pocket. Should you try the doorknob? You gingerly place your hand on it and turn. 

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To your surprise, the door swings open, revealing a small, unkempt, and sparsely decorated apartment. Everything in the living room is lit up by a dim yellow glow from a solitary lamp that's been left on. There's hardly even furniture; just a couple folding chairs and a table. You nervously step inside and close the door behind you. "Guzma?" you call. 

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There's a groaning down the hallway. 

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Cautiously you move towards the noise, looking around. The words "sad" and "lonely" pop into your head as you continue through Guzma's place. True, he hadn't been here long, so maybe you should be a little more understanding, but, well, it really does radiate sadness and loneliness. His possessions are few. It looks more like someone is squatting in the apartment rather than renting it. It's dusty and hollow, as if the tenant never expected that he would be entertaining visitors. It's not so much a home; just a place to stay for someone who has no where else to go. "Guzma, are you here?" you ask again. 

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The grumbles are louder now. You make out a familiar voice saying, "Whddya want?" barely audible and slurred. 

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You stop in front of the darkened room the voice came from. Squinting, you can make out movement on the ground. You hope it is actually Guzma as you run your hand along the wall, feeling for a light switch. 

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You flick it on and there he is, throwing an arm over his eyes up against the sudden light and making a noise that sounds like something between a groan and a growl. He's sitting on the ground with his back against the tub, legs stretched out in front of him. He's an absolute mess with rumpled clothing, a couple stains on his shirt, hair that's even more wild than it usually is, and a dazed look on his face. It's a face that even through the veneer of inebriation you find attractive. Only Guzma could be completely trashed and still look good. 

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The bathroom looks about as welcoming as the rest of the apartment. The shower doesn't even have a curtain, the sink is sprinkled with hair from when he's shaved, and, you note with disgust, the toilet has vomit in it. 

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You look him over as he drags his lopsided glasses down over his eyes, the brightness clearly too much for him. Even from where you're standing you can smell the alcohol on him. He says your name. "What're ya doin' here?"

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"You asked me to come here. You texted me," you tell him flatly, moving into the bathroom. You flush the toilet, not wanting to look at the vomit anymore. You're not sure how to proceed with this. Part of you is pissed that he manged to drag you here on a drunken whim. You didn't come here with the intention to take care of him or rescue him from his self-imposed mess in the middle of the night. Another part of you is curious and concerned. This was an unconventional way of catching up, but Guzma didn't exactly do conventional, did he? You're silent, watching him shake his head and rub at his face, as you wait to see which part of you will win out. 

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He runs a hand through his hair. "I did? Shit, shit, 'msorry. I - I, well, fuck. I mean," He raises his glasses back to his forehead, and you see a sincerity in his eyes beyond the daze the alcohol has left. "Issgood to see ya. Ya look good. And - and shit. I'm sorry. This is - thiss not the way I wanted this ta go."

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He's absolutely pitiful, looking queasy, miserable, and a bit confused. His apologetic gaze goes back and forth from your face to the floor. You sigh, rolling your eyes and already able to tell which side will win. You'd be getting a late start at the berry farm tomorrow. 

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Time to get some information. You perch on the edge of the bathtub beside him. "Looks like moving back home is going well for you." 

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He slowly turns to look up at you from where he's sitting on the floor, blinking, his gray eyes fixed on yours.

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Your eyebrows furrow as you look back at him. He really was out of it. How much had he had to drink? What had he been drinking exactly? You can't help feeling a little awkward. It's like you know him, but you don't. You might have grown apart but his eyes still hold something so familiar. Despite feeling maybe a little abandoned from the time he's been gone and the lack of communication, you find you still have some affection for him, even in his current state. You just wanted to see him be alright. Things clearly hadn't been easy for him... and it's not like they were easy before. 

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Your pondering seems to have made him concerned. You jump a bit as he grabs your hand and gently pulls you toward him slightly. "Areya ok?" he slurs. 

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He's rubbing his thumb over your hand and looking at you, anxiously awaiting an answer. Alcohol always did make him go from being a bit of a sarcastic bastard to someone far more sensitive and mushy. Your cheeks burn as you sit back up and pull your hand away, noting with embarrassment the uptick in your pulse. So your slight crush on him was still intact. Great. "I'm fine, Guzma. You're the one who's clearly not ok." 

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He turns away from you, his back to the tub again. "Nono, I'm ok." 

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You can't suppress the short laugh you give. "Yeah, you sure look it." 

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Guzma looks down at himself and pulls at his white shirt, examining the stains. "Oh that? Thatss jus - thatss just puke." 

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"Charming," you say curtly. You're still caught between annoyance and sympathy. 

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He tugs his jacket off and begins pulling his shirt up, exposing his stomach and chest. "Imma take it off." 

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"No!" you yell more frantically and louder than you intended, slipping from the edge of the tub and kneeling beside him as you yank his shirt back down. 

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He blinks at you, then raises his hands in mock surrender. 

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You're very close, your faces only inches apart, though it's not exactly pleasant given the smell of alcohol and sick, along with his look of disorientation. You draw back, feeling your cheeks flush again. Then you notice red on the tub behind him. You panic a bit, mistaking it for blood at first, until you realize it's too bright. "Is that paint?"

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Guzma shrugs and leans back against the tub, adding more stains to his white shirt. 

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Where did the paint come from? You look at his discarded jacket on the tile floor. He's painted a big red X over the Team Skull logo on the back of it. "What'd you do that for?" you ask. 

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He sighs, shuffling his feet around. "Team Skullss the only thing I ever did that worked out, ya know? But even that wass - was good for nothin'. And it'ss all over now. 'ss gone." 

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"I thought you were ok with that. It seemed that way in the texts you sent," you say grabbing the hoodie and looking it over before placing it back in his lap, careful to leave the wet paint up. You remain standing as you talk with him. 

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You might as well not have bothered. Guzma just places his arms in his lap, not seeming to care if the paint gets on him. "It's fine. It's juss..." He looks up at you, searching your face for something. "You're - you're still my friend... right?"

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You're a bit taken aback. You marvel at such a strange question coming out of the mouth of a literal gang leader. Was that what he'd drunkenly invited you over for - to confirm that? Well, were the two of you still friends? Your communication had been so spotty for years now and neither of you seem like the people you used to be. Agreeing to continue this friendship seems ill-advised in a few ways, namely the bit of a wreck he currently is, and the feelings you still seem to harbor for him in spite of that. 

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He's still watching and waiting, face slowly falling as you take a while to respond. If there's anything Guzma seems like he needs right now, it's a friend. Honestly? Maybe you could use one too. You curse the soft spot you have for him that can't stand to see the pained look that's growing on his face as he takes your prolonged silence as rejection. "Yeah, yeah," you say with playful exasperation. "You're still my boy." You chuckle, remembering how often he used to say that phrase and wondering if he still says it. 

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His face absolutely splits into a wide, hazy grin, and you can't help giving an amused smile back. "Wass hopin' you'd say that!" He rises to his feet, the jacket falling back to the ground, and hugs you. 

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You go completely stiff at the unexpected embrace, grimacing when you remember the stains on his shirt and once again smelling the alcohol on his breath. Feeling unsure, you awkwardly pat him on the back until he lets go of you. Closeness from him was sort of welcome, truth be told, but not like this. 

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He looks at you excitedly and opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, but then he goes for the toilet retching into it. 

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Right, he was still drunk. You wait, wrinkling your nose as he empties his stomach. No, this was not going to be a friendship free of troubles, and you hope that calling you over in the middle of the night for inebriated conversations doesn't become a habit. Still, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and mumbles a pitiful apology to you, you have to admit that you're still kinda glad he's back. You missed him. Even if he looks like hell right now. "You should get some rest," you tell him. 

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You help him out of the bathroom to his room as he stumbles and mutters thanks to you. As predicted, his room is also sparse. There's just a mattress on the ground, and around it are various empty bottles. His laptop sits dangerously close to the edge of the bed, spreading a white glow through the room. You grab it as he plops down, saving it from colliding with the floor. You do a double-take when you glance at the screen. He's got tab after tab of articles about Team Skull open. You catch a couple headlines. 

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_Po Town Left in Shambles_

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_Locals Terrified After Gang Activity On the Rise_

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_Delinquent Group Known as Team Skull Claim Responsibility for Rash of Stolen Pokemon_

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And on they go, some even naming Guzma specifically. You slowly close the laptop and place it on the ground. If getting his adult life started was tough before, surely all he's done with Team Skull has increased it ten fold. You wonder if this is something he can really recover from. 

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"I'm sorry," he says from the bed, bringing your attention back to him. How many times has he said that tonight. "It's really late, isn't it?" 

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The last round of vomiting and leaving the bathroom floor seems to have cleared his head a bit. At least his speech isn't slurred anymore. Maybe he's finally sobering up. You give him a sympathetic smile. "It's fine. I'll get you some water, ok?"

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He grumbles an "ok" as you leave the room. 

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The kitchen doesn't look like it's hardly been used. His trash is full of takeout and there's a few dirty dishes in the sink. He definitely doesn't cook much. You try to avoid thinking about what a melancholy hellhole his entire apartment is as you open cupboards looking for a glass. Finally you locate a single solitary glass full of dust and rinse it out in the sink before filling it with water and returning to his room. 

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He's sitting on the bed with his back to the wall, staring ahead at nothing when you walk in. You stop a moment, surprised at how defeated he looks. He'd really been through hell recently, hadn't he? What exactly went on in the time he'd been gone? 

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Guzma turns, noticing you standing there, which brings you out of your reverie. You hand him the glass and he immediately downs it. 

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"Oh. You want another glass?" 

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He shakes his head, the tufts of white hair and gold sunglasses bouncing. "Nah, you've already done a lot." He sighs, setting the glass down. "You can go if you want. I'm fine." 

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Though he might be sobering up, he sure still doesn't look fine. The sloshed look he had before has now been replaced with something caught between regret and misery. And you feel... weird about leaving him alone in this pit of despair and bachelorhood that he calls an apartment. It doesn't seem right. But what else can you do? 

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You fidget nervously as you stand there, wondering if you can just call out of work tomorrow. He glances up at you sideways, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. With his growing sobriety there's a tension in the air now. Is he embarrassed? 

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You hesitate a moment and then sink down onto the bed as his eyes widen in surprise. You grin at him. "You - you remember when Kukui was jealous you had a Wimpod and he tried to catch one too?"

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His face changes from disbelief to mirth. He laughs and you sigh in relief, the corners of your mouth refusing to stay down. You had successfully broken the tension. 

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Guzma smiles at you. "Fell fucking flat on his face chasing Wimpod around the beach! Ha! He never did catch one." 

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"Nope! And as far as I know he still doesn't have one." 

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He laughs again. "Fuckin' nerd." 

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You watch him as he smiles - a true, genuine smile, not one bolstered by drunkenness, and you realize how good it is to see that from him. How good it is to see him. Your dad may get a bit cross with you for skipping work tomorrow, but you can't resist this. The two of you laughing together brings back some feeling you weren't even aware you were missing. It may not be the best hour for catching up with Guzma, but you'll take it. 

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"Hey, remember when he tried to catch that Crabrawler?" he says, looking as if some weight had been taken off his shoulders. 

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You laugh, "Yes, but remind me!"

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	2. You're leaving me between the walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter two! Yes, every chapter is gonna be lyrics from the song. Don't think I've mentioned it yet, but my Guzma blog on Tumblr is Bugaboozma if you wanna talk to me about any fic stuffs. 
> 
> And another warning for alcohol consumption, in case that's not your thing. As stated before, that's gonna kinda feature a bit heavily in this fic. I'm trying to sorta walk a fine line with it, as I don't intend for Guzma to be an alcoholic in this, but more so someone who could be considered at risk for it? Like, if left to his own devices it could develop into that, but it's not quite that bad yet. But it's close. 
> 
> I changed the description of this slightly, to reflect another limitation I put on myself. Each chapter is going to take place in either the reader or Guzma's apartment. This way, I don't have to write about stuff I don't want to, (haha like berry farming) and it limits me in terms of locations and characters. Since my goal is to NOT turn this into yet another epically long fic, I think this'll help. Plus I feel like it's sorta whittling it down to it's most interesting parts. 
> 
> Sorry my notes are always so long. I can't seem to resist.

That night you'd stayed until exhaustion demanded you find a bed - which wasn't all that long, given the hour. You and Guzma had joked around and reminisced, and it was pleasant, but awkward. The way the two of you talked felt off somehow, despite the laughter. It's not the same kind of closeness that you shared all those years ago traveling around the islands together. There's an unfamiliarity that's been bred in your time apart. Your past was a start, but in many ways it's like getting to know a new person. Not to mention there's clearly some kind of trauma he's attempting to fight off. Guzma had never exactly been untroubled, given his relationship with his dad, but now there seems to be something darker there. Like everything's come to a head for him and he doesn't seem to know how to deal with it. You're not sure how or if you can help... or even if he wants you to, but for an old friend you're willing to try. 

Which is why after opening and closing the messages on your phone numerous times, you finally hit send on a text asking him if he'd like to come over and hang out for a while. He'd seemed a little surprised by your invitation. The two of you had exchanged a few short texts since the night he'd drunkenly asked you to come to his place, but that was it. He doesn't seem unwilling to talk to you, but instead more worried that you don't actually want to talk to him. 

_Hey! You wanna come hang out for a bit? I'll be sure to make Tapu Cocoa._

_You want me to come to your place_

_Yeah! We can do some more catching up! If you want. No pressure or anything._

_You sure_

_Yeah! Why not?_

_idk I just thought that one night maybe scared you off_

_Nah, it's ok. Just don't make it a habit lol_

_Alright If you're sure. When do you wanna meet up_

Which led to you now waiting on his arrival. You check your reflection one more time, feeling a little ridiculous. He was just a friend coming over, right? So what did it matter if your hair wasn't perfectly in place? Even though that is indeed the case, you give in to the temptation to check yourself over before leaving your bathroom. 

You walk down the hallway of your apartment towards the living room, scrutinizing everything you pass. Your's is also a small place, which you'd gotten for it's cheap rent, meaning you'd need no roommates. It's mostly just the essentials, with one bedroom, a bathroom, a tiny living room, and a kitchen. Though it's size is comparable to Guzma's apartment, the decorations, furniture, and sense of home are far different. 

Your apartment definitely feels lived in. It's nothing too fancy: the couch, tables, chairs, and such are all things you'd gotten secondhand and a couple items show their age. You admit that your decorating habits are a little haphazard. Mostly you like to stick up whatever you can on the walls, surrounding yourself with your favorite things, like drawings, posters, random decorations you'd found and more. It could be called cluttered, but you preferred to think of it more as a collage of sorts. Most prominent within this collage of your likes and interests are photos - mostly ones you've taken, and mostly from the days you traveled around. You always did love photography, and your photos were never more interesting then when you were away from home. You feel a twinge of sadness when you think about how little you've taken photos recently, and how little you've seen outside Hau'oli city. 

You know it's maybe not the most mature interior decoration, but it's surely better than boring blank walls. You haven't had many visitors before, and you wonder if this is something you should be embarrassed of. Then you remember Guzma's apartment. At least yours could be called a home. He sure can't judge you on this, right? Your sudden insecurities give you pause. Were you really trying to impress him that much? You sigh and sink onto the couch to wait for him to show up. "Let's just not get too ahead of ourselves here," you mutter aloud to no one. 

You actually see his shadow from the window beside the door before he has a chance to knock. You wait for him to do so, but nothing happens; he seems to be just standing there. The longer the moment drags on, the more curious you get. Was he there or not? You quietly rise from the couch and approach the window, pulling back a slat of the blinds ever so slightly. 

It is indeed Guzma. He's standing there, looking from your door to the ground, mouth set in a line and eyebrows furrowed in what looks like frustration. His hand rubs at his undercut in a nervous habit that you recognize from all those years ago - there was one thing that hadn't changed. Growing up in the household he did left Guzma with anxiety. Whatever recent events had befallen him seem like they've made that worse. You watch him a moment, debating what to do - do you give him space or greet him - but then he turns away, which causes you to panic. 

You yank open the door, making him whirl around in surprise. 

"Hey!" you squeak out, feeling immediate regret at how eager and high pitched it sounds. 

He just stands there blinking for a second, before swallowing and answering, "hey," in return. Then his hand is at the back of his neck again. 

You are definitely both nervous. Something about the recognition of this makes you feel a little more at ease. Neither one of you has the upper hand here. You want to make him more comfortable because, more than anything, you'd kind of like to have your friend back. Awkward as the conversation could be as you sat on his bed, it was also nice. It was good to joke around with someone. It's just unfortunate that it would take a bit of effort to get back to that now that you're both clear-headed without alcohol and lack of sleep. 

You invite him in, stepping out of the doorway. He cautiously walks through and looks around at everything, making you feel self-conscious again. "Yeah I know it's kinda... crowded," you say. 

He huffs. "Nah, it's interesting. Beats my place." 

You give him a timid smile. Hey, interesting is good at least. "So, about that cocoa."

"Yeah, you know I'd never turn that down." He gives you a half-smile back. 

You leave him in the living room as you prepare the drinks. Your nerves are starting to calm as you try to think of ways to make him more relaxed around you. You wonder why this all has to feel as weird as it does. Maybe you were overthinking things. Maybe he was too. 

Guzma's got his back to you as you approach the living room, drinks in hand. He's still wearing his Team Skull hoodie, that seems as if it's been washed since your visit to his apartment. Most of the red paint is gone, but you can still make out a faded red X across the emblem on the back. He pulls something out of the jacket pocket and you pause. It's a flask. He takes a couple quick swigs from it before returning it to his hoodie and sitting on the couch. Now new thoughts are running through your head. How much of an issue was the alcohol? And why? You watch as he runs a hand through his white hair and sighs. He still seems so on edge. You inhale, steeling yourself for whatever conversations are ahead of you and walk into the living room. 

He mutters his thanks to you as you hand him a mug and sit beside him on the couch. 

You're both quiet for a moment until he says, "You mind if I add a little something to this?"

You don't answer at first. It's not like you've got a problem with alcohol or people drinking, and it's not like you haven't done it yourself, but something feels weird about this. Still, you suppose it might get him to loosen up.

"Or, uh, I don't have to," he begins at your lack of response. 

"It's fine," you say slowly. 

He just watches you for a bit, before warily adding some of whatever's in his flask to his cocoa. Then he offers the flask to you. 

Well, maybe it would make you loosen up too; make the questions you so desperately want to ask easier. You take it and pour a small amount into your drink before handing it back to him. 

You notice his shoulders have relaxed a little. You joining him in having a drink seems to have helped. "Your place is nice," he says. "You still doing the photography thing?"

"Sometimes," you say, glancing at the camera on the table. "Been here for years now and, well, we grew up in this area. Feels like there's nothing new to really take pictures of." 

Guzma looks around at the photos on the walls of the living room. "Guess there was plenty to take pictures of while we were doin' the trials, huh?"

"Yeah, there was." You smile. "Not that you would be in many of them." 

He waves a hand dismissively. "Eh, there were far better subjects than me and Kukui." 

"But that was part of it! Capturing a moment... remembering things." Your gaze falls on a picture of you, Kukui, and Guzma. It was the day you'd left for your trials. The three of you were still new friends and you wanted a picture before you took off. You're in the middle, smiling and holding the camera out in front of you. Kukui's on your left with his usual friendly grin, and Guzma on your right with his arms crossed looking very begrudging. 

Guzma follows your eyes to the photo. "That feels like forever ago." 

"It kinda was, I suppose." 

"Nothin's like it was."

You feel a little unsure as you ask, "You - you wanna talk about it?" 

He gives a rueful laugh. "Nah, I don't think dumping my bullshit on you's a good way of gettin' reacquainted." 

"I mean, it's not like I didn't just ask you to." And it's also not like you're not curious. 

He scratches at his undercut. "Yeah, well, maybe there's things I don't want you to know."

"But, we used to tell each other everything." 

He gives you a dubious sideways glance. 

"Well, mostly everything."

"I ain't done anything impressive or worth talking about since I been gone."

You're feeling a little confused. "Why's it gotta be impressive?" 

He doesn't answer, just looks at the ground with his hand stuck behind his head. 

"Guzma, it's just me." 

"It ain't - it ain't that simple, is it?" 

You lean back against the couch. "No, I guess it isn't."

"Shit's weird." 

Shit is weird. How do you rid it of that weirdness? You take a long sip from your cocoa, barely able to taste the alcohol that was added. Well, you've got no plans today, so would it be so bad to calm your nerves a little more? Maybe just drink enough to be able to ignore the weirdness? And hey, he seemed to relax a bit when you'd accepted the flask and clearly weren't going to judge him for having it. You won't get smashed; just... a bit buzzed. "You got that flask?" you ask hoping you've made the right call. 

He looks at you, his eyes widening a little in surprise, before reaching into his jacket. "Yeah, uh, here you go." 

You take it and unscrew the lid. You tilt it, your hand pausing over the cocoa for a moment, and then you pour a generous amount in.

He laughs as you replace the lid and hand the flask back to him. "And here I thought I was the drinker." 

You take another long drink of cocoa, the alcohol nearly overpowering the chocolate now. Your nose wrinkles, your eyes scrunch, and you swallow hard as you place the mug down on the table. That was a little rough. Perhaps that was a little overzealous to add as much as you did. You hold back a cough from the burn of the alcohol, clear your throat and turn to him. "Speaking of that, uh, has that, ya know, been a thing for a while."

He looks away from you and shifts around uncomfortably, his smile fading. "I mean, the night you came over was - was the first I've drank that much in a while. Not really used to drinkin' alone I guess. It's not like it's a problem or anything." Now it's his turn to take a long, desperate drink from his cocoa. 

"Uh huh," you say, as you watch him, unconvinced. 

"It's not!" He sets his mug down and turns toward you. "It just - it makes things easier sometimes." 

Your mug is again at your lips. "What kinda things?"

Guzma scratches at his neck and looks down at his mug. "Just... thoughts and stuff." He huffs and rolls his eyes playfully, taking another sip of cocoa. "What, did you invite me over here for free therapy?" 

You laugh and wave a hand at him. Your mug is now nearly empty and your head is just starting to swim. "No, but you can't blame me for being curious about what you were up to, can you?" 

"I'd rather hear about what you were doing."

Your turn to roll your eyes. "What do you think? Berry farming. Nothing remarkable. In fact I'm pretty sure I'm a disappointment for how little I'm into it." 

"Family disappointment, huh?" He gives a short laugh that sounds almost sad. "I'll drink to that." 

The two of you gently tap your mugs together and down the rest of your cocoa. 

You inhale to steady yourself. You were definitely tipsy now, but it feels ok. Your inhibitions have dulled as have your nerves. 

The flask reemerges. Guzma pours some into his empty mug and hands it to you. "A little more?"

You stare at the flask in your hand. There's only a bit left in the container. A little more couldn't hurt. You dump it into your mug, watching the clear liquid mix with the brown dredges of your cocoa. It smells strong. "I can't believe you drink this stuff straight." 

"I can't believe you're drinking it with me," he laughs. 

You take a sip of the liquid and grimace, nearly choking on the burn. "Figure it couldn't hurt this once. Maybe see what you find appealing about it." 

He watches you take another unpleasant sip, amused, then he asks, "Do I make you nervous?" 

"Truth or lie?" You smirk at him, the buzz in your head growing. 

In response he downs whatever amount he's poured into his mug and swallows hard. He clears his throat as he places the mug back down on the table a little roughly, making it give a clacking sound. "Think I can handle the truth now." 

You look into your mug. One excruciating sip left. You copy his motions, quickly ingesting the liquid and bringing your mug down on the table. "And I think I can handle telling you the truth now."

He continues to watch you with a mixture interest and incredulity. 

You inhale, trying your damnedest to string your words together the best you can through your tipsiness. "I mean, maybes," you slur. Well, ok, so maybe you were becoming a little more than just tipsy. "You were, like, a gang leader, weren'tcha?" 

He blinks at you for a moment, entirely too entertained at your sudden change in speech. "You - you're a lightweight, aren't you?"

You shake your head a bit and immediately regret it for the way the motion makes your head swim. "Probably." 

"Well, lucky you." 

He doesn't seem all that affected by what he's had. He drank at least as much as you did, and yet you're clearly far more affected. You wonder again how much he drank that night. Your affections for him and his uncertain absence might indeed make you nervous, but those nerves sure have been silenced now. Did this help at all for him yet? 

"Gang is... kind of a strong word." 

"So it wasn't a gang? Team Skull?" 

"... more of a hired distraction." 

You can sense his hesitation, even with the alcohol. It's still too soon then? That's fine. Perhaps some more reminiscing was needed still. You grab his hand and stand up, pulling him with you before you can really think about what you're doing. He's wide-eyed, but he lets you pull him to his feet and lead him toward one of the walls without fuss. You sloppily point to a picture with one hand while the other intertwines with his fingers. It's a picture of a younger Guzma and his Wimpod. "This," you say with as much grandeur as you can muster through your inebriation, "iss one of the rarest photos I have."

"That so, huh?"

"You know why?"

He sighs in mock exasperation. "Enlighten me."

You jab a finger at the photo again. "What's that on your face? Oh shit! It'ss a smile! How many photographers have captured that, huh?" 

"Yeah, remind me to never drink with you again." 

"Oh come on, Guz! Lookit how cute that smile is. Bet it'ss still pretty cute now." Yeah, inhibitions are pretty well annihilated. A lightweight you most definitely are. 

He gives your hand a light squeeze. "Cute and gang leader don't exactly go together."

"And yet." You gesture wildly to all of him. 

He laughs and you smile goofily at him. Good, the ice has been re-cracked. 

He tugs you toward another photo. This one is of his Surskit. "This gal's evolved now!" 

"Lemme see!" 

"In here?" he asks, looking unsure. 

"Yep!" His Surskit had been one of your favorites that he had and you were absolutely anxious to see it now. 

He fishes in his pocket for a pokeball, and out comes a fully evolved Masquerain. She flutters in the air a moment, large and ethereal, before perching atop Guzma's head. He looks up at her and smiles as the pokemon leans over and nuzzles her face against his nose. For as rough as Guzma's attitude could occasionally be, he always was a softie when it came to his pokemon. In your travels you'd rarely come across anyone as close to their companions as he was, and apparently still is. He'd always communicated with them so well. You got the sense that he might not always understand people, but pokemon are a different story. It was one of the things you admired about him. "She's gorgeous," you say. 

Masquerain looks up from Guzma and fixes her gaze on you at your words. Then she excitedly flits into the air and over to you. You laugh as you hold out an arm for her to land on. 

"She remembers you!" he tells you. 

"I remember her too!" You gently pet the bug pokemon on her head. She stays there a while, allowing you to pet her and looking at you affectionately before drifting back over to Guzma. You watch him extend an arm out for her and pull her close. It was refreshing to see Big Bad Guzma be as gentle as he was with his Masquerain. You've heard some troublesome rumors about him, and you know there's probably some degree of truth to them. Shit is weird and things have changed, but somewhere underneath it all, he's still just Guzma. 

Your head is still fuzzy from the alcohol. You remember the hard lemonades and a few other drinks you've got in the fridge. You don't think you've got anything as strong as what he brought over in that flask, but this was as good an excuse as any to get rid of it. You hadn't been drinking it anyway. "Want something else to drink?"

He smirks at you and replaces his pokemon in her pokeball. "You haven't had enough?"

You're already making your way to the kitchen. "Nah, we need a little more."

 

The rest of the evening is a blur of alcohol, laughs, and a tour of pictures and pokemon. You've both got more now that you were anxious to show one another. His Golisopod in particular had grown to be an impressive creature. He towered over you, somehow even bigger than you remembered. But then he too recognized you and was plastered against you begging to be pet. Your Primarina even had the same reaction to Guzma. 

This sure was easier for the pokemon than it was for you and Guzma. They reacted as if no time had really passed at all - just a happy and quick reacquaintence. You begin to wonder if you and Guzma will reach a point where you can have that without the aid of alcohol. At least while sober, you've both become pretty anxious people. But why? 

Things have been winding down, but you're still pretty buzzed from the continued drinking. Throughout the visit, the two of you had tipsily shared many small touches, which was more than fine by you. There'd been a few hugs, occasional hand holding, and other touches that lasted too long to be just friendly. And even through the alcohol each one set a tingling in you. 

You're sitting on the couch now, side-by-side and you can't shake the feeling that you still need to figure out a few things. You know who Guzma was, but who is he now? You're not sure what makes you remember his computer, and you can't get your mind to focus and phrase the question better, so you blurt out, "I saw the articles on your laptop." 

Guzma stiffens beside you. 

"They true?" 

He rubs at his undercut. "... in a sense."

"It's alrig-"

"It's not," he interrupts you. 

You blink, trying to get your brain to focus for the more serious direction this is taking. It's difficult. "Guzma-"

"Are you afraid of me?" he asks, taking you by surprise, even in your current state. "Everyone else is."

You sit up and turn to him. He looks up at you, waiting for an answer. The two of you are very close. You wrack your swimming brain for the right words, but simplicity seems to be all you can muster. "No - no I'm not afraid of you." 

He seems unconvinced. His eyes leave yours, thinking. 

You place a hand on his face, prompting his intense, gray eyes to meet yours again, this time with a bit of shock. "Whatever's happened, it'ss ok," you tell him, willing your words not to garble together. "I - I couldn't be afraid of you."

He's turned towards you now, expression softening after your last words. His lips are so close to yours and the temptation to join them is becoming harder and harder to resist. You lean in slightly, but he stops you. Confused, still dazed, and slightly hurt, you freeze and stare at him. 

Guzma gives you a small, but sad, sympathetic smile, as his eyebrows furrow. "I - it's not that I don't, uh..." he trails off and you're feeling a bit tattered. You lower your hand from his face, unsure if this is rejection or not. Then he reaches up and gently tucks a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. "Just. Not like this. Not while you ain't sober. I don't - I don't wanna start nothin' like that. You know?"

You just stare for a moment, blinking, and processing what he's said. You slowly nod. 

He sighs and begins to rise from your couch. "You gonna be ok?" 

All you can do is nod again, your feelings swirling and undefinable at his reactions. 

He gives you another soft, regretful smile. Then he leans over and gently kisses your forehead. "Your turn to get some rest," he whispers. 

He gathers his things and leaves you to sober up.


	3. You break me down, I go nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for kudos and comments! AH! You just have no idea how much they make my day. I can't even describe it. I honestly wouldn't have interest in continuing without them. I never know if I should respond to them or not, but please know that if you've ever left a comment, I have reread it multiple times and I SO appreciate you leaving it. 
> 
> I'm trying not to retread territory too much, so hopefully this chapter isn't too similar to a scene in another fic of mine. It'll definitely have some similarities though. I debated for a while with myself on if I wanted to go in this direction, but I figured I sorta did and, well, I also felt like it had to be addressed. You kinda... can't not if you're gonna place Guzma in such close proximity to other characters. You'll see. 
> 
> But, what I've been sorta trying to do in a sense with this fic, is paint a believable picture of an awkward friendship being rekindled but also evolving into something more. It's been kinda slow going as they get reacquainted and come to think of one another in different terms than they once did. I think both Guzma and the reader character have been kinda reserved up until this point, but because this chapter is the moment when the dam breaks, that changes. 
> 
> This has been me... over-analyzing my own writing. In any case, here's your warning once again for alcohol use and drunkenness, and now we're adding in blood, more angst, and possibly minor descriptions of abuse.

The way he left felt a little strange, even if you can't put your finger on why. You suppose you just wish it had played out a little differently. 

You also wish he'd talk to you more. You feel guilty for it, but after that night you begin to do a little research, looking for more articles about Team Skull. You don't like what you find; property damage, theft, defacement of buildings, and other acts of mayhem. Apparently they'd even managed to overtake an entire town. Each article you find makes your stomach drop ever more. No wonder he didn't like the idea of you reading them; they don't paint a pretty picture. Team Skull certainly seemed like a gang, despite his protests. 

Was it really a good idea to get close to him again? That very thought was probably one he was worried you'd have. _Are you afraid of me?_ That's what he asked you. You weren't, but does all that you're reading change that? Well, it's not like he did something unforgivable, right? He hadn't killed anyone or anything like that. And it's not as if he himself was the one to do everything in these articles; there was more than Guzma in Team Skull. So no, you might not be afraid, but the articles do make you question yourself. 

But then there were also some other truths that deserved just as much consideration. You'd known him for so long and you'd been through so much with him on the island trials, especially when that hadn't gone as planned. You know there's more to him than whatever rough patch he'd been through in the time he was gone. Did that mean nothing? And there was also how gentle he was capable of being despite his rough exterior. You touch the spot where he'd kissed you on the forehead. If he really was that awful, wouldn't he have just taken advantage of your drunkenness? 

You try not to let your internal debate be apparent to him through the texts you send back and forth. Things were definitely getting friendlier and a bit more relaxed in your messages. At the very least, he doesn't seem as concerned that you secretly don't want to talk to him anymore. Still, it's all very casual, until late one evening when you're getting not a text from him, but a call. 

You're a little alarmed. This is new. While texting is becoming a more frequent occurrence, this is the first he's called you since he's been back to Hau'oli. You wonder if he sat on his phone and butt dialed you. The phone in your hand continues to ring, Guzma's name flashing across the screen. You cautiously answer it with a "hello?"

"Hey - hey, I'm - fuck," he starts. Okay, so not a butt dial. But he sounds strange; something is definitely wrong. "God - sorry I juss - I dunno who else ta call."

"It's fine!" you tell him, noting the slight slurring. "What's wrong?"

"Do ya think - do ya think ya can come over here?"

You look at the clock on the wall. It's pretty late... but honestly you'd gladly accept an excuse to call out of work again. "Yeah, yeah I'll be over soon, but, uh... Guzma, are you drunk?"

"No! Yes - maybe. I - I was. I don't - I'm not anymore... I don't think." 

"Okay, it's fine. I just, you know, wanted to check." Truthfully his alcohol consumption had been another thing giving you pause. But you'd felt a little hypocritical thinking that, considering that you'd drunk a fair amount yourself during his visit. Still, you don't drink near the amount that he does. 

"I'm ssorry. If you can't - if you don't-" his voice is so rough. He's being awful cryptic and there's clearly something wrong besides just intoxication. It sounds almost as if it's hard for him to talk; he sounds strained, like he's in pain. 

There's no way you can just stay home. "Guzma, hey, it's alright. I'm on my way, okay?" you tell him. 

"Yeah, yeah okay. I just - thanks." 

"Of course! See you soon." 

You spend the entire way to his apartment anxious over what you'll find. What could possibly have happened? But for the second time when you knock on his door, there's no answer. Time to try the knob again? When you look down at it, you freeze; everything within you goes ice cold. There is, what is unmistakably, a smear of blood on the doorknob. You don't hesitate anymore, carefully avoiding the red, you turn the handle and walk into Guzma's sad, lonely apartment. 

You call his name, noticing with alarm another splotch of blood on the wall where it looks like someone steadied themselves. You move in its direction, calling for him again. 

"Yeah, over here," says a hoarse voice. 

You follow the voice until you find him in a heap on the ground, leaning against the wall outside his bathroom. When he looks up at you, you can't help feeling horrified for a moment. There's a cut above his eye that's leaked blood down his forehead, more blood from his nose, and bruises are already starting to appear on his face and arms. His clothes are torn and sullied with dirt and blood. He's been in a fight. 

You drop down on your knees beside him, feeling as if you've just been punched yourself. He's in such a sorry state and your brain is swirling with questions and concern. You reach out to him and he actually winces away, shrinking against the wall, face twisting into a grimace. You stop. The sight of him so afraid of touch makes your heart ache. You begin to draw back a bit, not wanting to alarm him or crowd him, but then his expression changes; as if he suddenly realized exactly what his reaction had been to your simple gesture. He desperately reaches out for your retreating hand, grabs it, and holds it, encouraging you to come back towards him. 

"Guzma... what the fuck happened?" you ask as you continue to look him over. 

He swallows then inhales and it seems as if it's taking him a decent amount of concentration to talk. He still looks dazed and you can't tell if it's from being knocked around or from alcohol. "I - I just wanted to see how mom was doing, and uh..." he trails off for a moment. 

At just those few words, so many memories come back to you: conversations about his parents, small tidbits he'd told you in confidence, questioning the bruises he had, the way he'd disappeared for a while after giving up the island challenge, and every small recollection inbetween that related to the situation at hand. He doesn't even need to finish explaining - you already know what happened - Guzma had drunkenly fought his father. 

You drop his hand as you lean in towards him, gently enveloping his battered form in your arms. 

He weakly wraps his own arms around you, pulling you towards him, even as he grunts in pain. "You're gonna get blood on you," he says into your ear. 

"I don't care." You hug him as tight as you dare, not wanting to cause him more pain. It's not a loose, sloppy embrace like the ones you'd shared drunkenly in your apartment; it's protective and soothing. It's an understanding passing between you that he doesn't need to say anymore if he doesn't want to. It's a tenderness you've yet to share since he's been back. It's an acknowledgement of the closeness of your past and a promise to be there in the future. It feels like a final wall crashing down. All pretense is finally gone. He's more vulnerable now then when you'd found him so drunk before, and he'd entrusted that vulnerability to you. You stay there like that until your knees begin to burn. Reluctantly, you release him and move to sit beside him, wondering what should be done first. 

Guzma gives a short, sarcastic laugh. "So you're okay with this then? It's... a lot of bullshit. You don't have to be." 

You take his bloodied hand in yours. "Like I haven't experienced your bullshit before." 

"Yeah, but that don't mean-"

"Hey," you stop him. "It's completely fine. I want to be here. You're not forcing me to do anything." 

He just sighs in response, shoulders slacking as tension is released. His speech is no longer be slurred, though he still sounds strained. Between alcohol and blood loss, he's probably dehydrated.

"Can you stand?" you ask him. 

He nods and gets unsteadily to his feet, groaning in pain and using the wall for support. Is he injured enough to warrant a hospital visit? You hope it's not that severe. He nearly falls over when he tries to leave the wall. You quickly catch him by the arm, and place it around your shoulders. He gingerly uses you for support as you guide him into the bathroom. He seems to be afraid to put weight on you. 

Inside, you set him down on the edge of the tub, willing him not to fall over. "I'll be right back," you tell him, leaving to find water and first aid supplies, already knowing you probably won't find much in his place. Still, you scrounge up what you can in the kitchen and medicine cabinet.

It's a better haul than you would have expected, with band-aids, gauze, bandages, antiseptic, and a couple ointments. You're a little surprised and wonder how often he gets into fights that'd he'd actually have materials like this on hand. They might be common first-aid items, but with how sparse his apartment is, he doesn't seem like the kinda guy who'd typically be prepared like this. 

You set everything on the edge of the sink and turn its faucet on, allowing the water to warm so you can wash the blood from him. In the meantime, Guzma (most definitely dehydrated) had gladly accepted three glasses of water. 

"Okay," you turn to him with a warm, wet washcloth. His gray eyes watch you from beneath the blood on his face with both sadness and uncertainty. He still looks like such a defeated mess and he seems embarrassed by it. The room is silent except for the running water. You feel an awkwardness returning as the moment drags on. Then you step toward him and place one hand on the side of his face. His eyes don't leave yours. They feel piercing and mournful - not like they're judging you, but more like he's worried you're silently judging him. You give him a small smile, hoping to convey that it's alright. He lays his hand over yours and continues to gaze up at you from his perch on the bathtub. Gently, you begin to wipe the blood from his face and he relaxes. 

You brush the washcloth across his forehead, trying not to irritate the cut above his eye. His hand is warm sitting over yours that's still cupping his face. It makes your chest flutter a bit to have it there, but you try to ignore it and focus on gently removing the blood from him the best you can. He watches your face as you work. 

The washcloth comes away from his skin stained with blood and dirt. He hesitantly drops his hand from yours as you turn away to rinse it. You watch the red water run down the sink drain. It feels as if you're trying to wash away Guzma's last few hours. How bad had that fight been? Would there be other repercussions from it? How much harder had tonight made things for Guzma? With your hands under the faucet you tell him, "I'm... so sorry this happened." 

"Yeah, well, it ain't the first time," he says as you approach him with the washcloth again. 

You wipe across his cheek under his eye, revealing more bruising that'll likely turn into a black eye. "Doesn't mean this time sucks any less. You - you went over there drunk?" 

He stiffens a bit, but continues talking. "Yeah. I just... I dunno. I been thinkin' about my mom lately and I just... had to check." 

"Didn't go well?" You grab his chin as you wipe blood from his nose. 

He laughs ruefully. "You might be surprised to know they weren't happy to see me. 'specially my dad." 

"He's always been an asshole." 

Guzma gives you a half smile. "Yeah, but I guess at least this time I've actually done some things worth bein' mad at." 

You turn to rinse the cloth again, giving him a confused look. 

He sighs. "Look I ain't... particularly proud of everything that's happened with Team Skull. But - but fuck, I dunno. Being able to organize something like that made me feel like maybe - maybe I wasn't such a disappointment." He's looking at the ground now when you turn back towards him. "At least to myself anyway. Felt like I did something for the first time. Like I had something; accomplished something. Figured out none of it really meant much. Still wound up on my ass back here." 

This is the most he's said about Team Skull so far. For as much as he's trying to downplay it, losing what he'd built seems to have made him lose himself. You brush back hair from his forehead and run your hand through his white locks. He looks back up at you, blinking. "Sounds like it actually meant a lot," you tell him. 

"The team? Yeah, yeah I guess they did." His eyebrows furrow. "You - you wanna hear all this?" he asks uncertainly. 

You nod and he sets about filling in the blanks of the events you've missed out on. How he'd run off from home after another round of violence with his father, how he'd lived on the streets, how he'd gathered others as unfortunate as he'd been, the rise of Team Skull, and their doings with the Aether Foundation. He spoke of the things he was glad he'd done, like the kids in Team Skull he'd gotten off the street at the very least, and the things he was ashamed of. One of the more painful things seems to be when he realized he was being used by the Aether foundation and its president - someone he'd put so much faith in. It's a long, sordid tale, but telling it seems to lessen whatever weight is on him. It rebuilds something between the two of you too - where pretense had been torn down, trust was being constructed in its place. 

As he speaks, you continue to remove what the fight left on him. With the blood and dirt gone, you disinfect the cut on his forehead. He pulls back from you as you dab at it with disinfectant, nearly falling backwards into the tub. "Hey! Hey, nurse, that stings, you know?" 

You can't help but laugh a bit as you grab him by the arm to help steady him. His sarcastically calling you "nurse" feels like the most "Guzma" thing he's done all night - possibly even since he's been back altogether. It's like finally catching a glimpse of the friend you've been waiting to see this whole time. 

"Oh no," you tease him, suddenly feeling as if you're both young again. "What, Big Bad Guzma can't handle a little disinfectant?"

He's got a sarcastic grin plastered on his face now, as if all his gloominess from before is ebbing away. Sure, he still looks like hell with his cuts and bruises, but even with all of that, his smile still sets a tingle up your spine. "Hey, go easy on your boy, huh?" He looks at you with phony hurt on his face. "I'm all roughed up." 

You roll your eyes, but you're feeling pretty ecstatic at finally, finally truly finding Guzma again. "Yeah, I can see that." You take him by the chin and resume cleaning the cut. 

His eyes scrunch from the pain for a moment, before he's back to being playful with you. "Still cute though, right?"

"Yeah," you huff, reaching for a bandage. "Adorable." 

With his face finally done, you move on to his hands and arms, washing away more dirt and blood to reveal cuts on his knuckles. The sight of them momentarily knocks you from your happiness as you frown at them. 

Guzma notices. "I - I didn't start it," he says. 

You look up, meeting his suddenly more serious gaze. 

"I mean, I was drunk, sure, which probably didn't help." He scratches at his undercut with the hand you're not holding and cleaning. "But I didn't go over there for this. I really just wanted to make sure mom was okay." He looks down at his damaged hand. "But dad was there, and conversation don't always exactly go well with him. We started arguing, he decked me, and it just sorta... escalated from there." Guzma's eyes meet yours again. "But I didn't start it." 

You blink at him a moment, then return to his hands. "It's alright. I know you're all bark and no bite." And it's true. For as long as you've known him, Guzma could sure put on a show when he wanted with his bluster and attitude, but violence wasn't something you'd witnessed from him. 

"Hey, I wouldn't go that far!" he tells you, jokingly defensive. "I just didn't want you to think... ya know." 

You give a small laugh as you finish bandaging his hands. "I don't." 

"Good," he says, smiling in relief. 

You notice there's still some dirt and spots of blood up his arms, running underneath his jacket. You rest your hands on his shoulders and begin gently peeling back the hoodie from him. 

He looks at you, surprised, but lets you pull it off. 

You lean in close to him as he slips his arms from it, holding tight to prevent it from falling. Simply removing a jacket from him shouldn't be that exciting, but you swallow, feeling a little flushed from the act anyway. You set it on the counter behind you. When you turn back to Guzma, he's looking at you curiously. You bite your lip and set about removing the last remaining bits of grime from him. 

"Hey," he says as you finish, bringing your focus back to his eyes. "Thank you." 

You say nothing, but place your hands on either side of his face, fingers lightly running into his hair, and kiss him softly on the forehead, the same way he'd done to you back in your apartment. He slowly rises from the edge of the tub. Then his hand cups your chin and tilts it upwards slightly. You look up at him, startled, but close your eyes when he brings his lips to yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I'm only adding notes at the end because when I don't it seems to stick the end notes from the first chapter here? Eh, whatever. 
> 
> Anyway, you see what I mean, right? Hard to have a sorta redemption arc without mentioning his dad, especially since he's so close by. You can't tell me drunk Guzma wouldn't eventually find trouble there. 
> 
> Also I think I'm just weak for scenes of the bad boy being patched up or something. It's in... almost all my fics. Haha please tell me you feel me on this.


	4. Because I can't stand to be alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular chapter breaks the formula I had set up with switching between apartments, as I decided to have it take place immediately after the last one, but ahhh I couldn't resist, you know? 
> 
> As always, thank you for your kudos and comments. I say it a lot, but they seriously mean the world to me. They brighten my day SO much. Nothing gets me more inspired to write then knowing that you like what I wrote and you're waiting on more. So to those leaving comments, you're literally the reason I've written as much as I have and why I keep going. Thank you! 
> 
> But I've blabbed enough. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

It's the softest, most tentative kiss at first - just the brushing of lips, with his hand still lightly cupping your chin - like he's afraid you might pull away and reject him. It feels almost entirely too gentle for a moment you've secretly been waiting on for longer than you care to admit. Behind closed eyes you see a kaleidoscope of memories with him: the day you left on the island challenge, camping out under the stars, cheering on each others successes, consoling the defeats, and the adolescent realization that you have feelings for your friend. Then there's the day he quit the challenge, and the years after, when he grew even more troubled and it felt like he was slipping away. There's the fears you had of what became of him, and the recent reconnecting. All these recollections are littered with small touches you'd held onto, intense gray eyes, and a sarcastic smile that somehow lights up the darkest parts of you. There's no way you'd pull away from him. 

You reach up, placing your arms around his neck and draw him towards you. You feel the corners of his mouth twitch up against your lips as his other hand finds its way to your back and he kisses you harder. It feels different from how you pictured it. You'd always imagined sparks and electricity, and while there is undeniably excitement, there's far more contentment - like a sigh as tension leaves you. This feels almost like relief; like coming home. It's an unspoken longing finally put out in the open. You move closer to him as his bandaged hand gently slides to the side of your face, fingers threading into your hair. 

But then he wobbles slightly on his feet and jolts as the back of his legs hit the edge of the tub. You suddenly remember the trouble he had walking earlier. He gives a small gasp as he parts from you and begins flailing his arms, looking for something to grab onto, falling backwards. You panic and reach out for him, only to go down with him as he drops into the tub and yells "Shit!"

Well, it wouldn't be Guzma if these moments went perfectly. 

"Are you alright?!" you ask him as he winces in pain and rubs behind his head. He's sitting in the tub now with his back to the wall, lanky legs hanging over the side. Given his previous injuries, that fall could not have been pleasant. Not to mention it was probably made worse by the fact that you fell on top of him. "Oh sorry!" you say with your sudden realization and quickly move to get up from your current position of straddling him in the tub. 

But he stops you, grabbing you by the arm. "Hey, hey, wait," he says, face relaxing out of his sore grimace. 

You pause, blinking at him. 

He sits up as much as he's able to and his hand is back to caressing your face, bringing you toward him. This time it's rough and desperate as his lips meet yours. You feel the bandage wrapped around his knuckles against your skin as his thumb glides along your cheek. Despite injury and even falling into the tub, he seems so reluctant to stop; like you and this moment might disappear if he hesitates. You begin to wonder how long he's been wanting this too. 

Your knees ache from the fall and now from resting on them in the hard tub as you kneel over him, but you ignore it. Your hands move to either side of his face and find their way into his hair as you respond just as eagerly to his voracious kisses. Your chest pounds at a steady pace while you continue. You're absolutely okay with carrying on if he is, even if making out in a bathtub is a little odd. 

He wraps an arm around your back and brings you closer to him. But the action makes him break from you again, groaning and clutching at his ribs. You quickly move off of him and climb out of the tub. Guzma lets you this time, even if he does huff in disappointment. He watches you leave him, one eye still scrunched up in pain. Right, he was still in pretty bad shape. Should he go to an emergency room? 

"Maybe you should take it easy," you tell him as you offer him a hand. 

He takes it, but he seems so hesitant to use you as support that you barely feel any pull when he stands, grumbling as he does so. He braces himself on the tiled wall, and carefully steps over and out of the tub. You've got both arms out, ready to try and catch him if he falls. He gives a small laugh at your over-attentive expression. "Don't look so worried!" he says, fixing you with a charming, but unconvincing smile. "Your boy's fine."

You cross your arms, looking him over. "You sure you don't need medical attention or something?"

"Nah," he tells you, resting a hand on the sink counter for stability. "Got the best nurse around! I'm good."

Despite all the years that have passed, he still has a hard time taking things seriously, especially anything that concerns him. You take his free hand and look him in the eye. The bruises are growing darker and the swelling has increased. He's going to have a black eye. "I'm serious."

He inhales and lets it out slowly. "It - I mean, really, it's not as bad as it looks. Nothin' broken. Just, ya know, bruised and stuff. It ain't worth goin' anywhere." 

You continue to stare him down, still feeling unsure. The way he's unsteady on his feet is what has you worried the most. 

He smiles at you again and gives your hand a small shake. "Don't worry, okay?"

Well, it's not as if you can force him to go anywhere. You relent, but you're unable to keep the apprehension off your face. "In any case, you should lie down." 

He chuckles and lets you place his arm around your shoulders as you lead him to his room. "Whatever you say, nurse." 

At the very least, he does seem to be regaining his steadiness. You both make it to his bedroom without incident, which relieves you - a little anyway. 

Once there he looks down at his clothes, which are torn in places and sullied with blood and dirt. "Yeah, I'm gonna change, alright?"

"I'll wait outside," you say, moving for the door. 

Guzma grabs you by the waist, halting your exit. The fingers curling around your hip send a shiver up your spine. You look up at him, confused. 

He's got the biggest grin on his face and the spark of trouble in his eye. The longer this night goes on, the more his cautiousness with you seems to be turning into boldness. "You can stay and watch if you want," he says to you, voice low. 

You recover from surprise and roll your eyes playfully at his offer. 

"Hey, I saw how much you liked takin' off my jacket!"

You feel your face flush. "What?! I did no - I mean - that's not-" 

He laughs and tries to bring a hand to your face, but he stops midway, wincing and once again clutching at the same spot on his ribs that he did in the bathtub. 

"Are you sure nothings broken?" you ask, watching as he tries to continue smiling at you while he grimaces. He can't seem to lift his arm too high without his side bothering him. 

"Just bruised ribs. It'd be a lot worse if it were broken."

"You sure?"

He shrugs. "Pretty sure."

You sigh then look up at him nervously. "Are you, uh, gonna need help? Bruised ribs seem to be... making things rough for you." 

He considers this a moment, his mischievous look from before dissipates at the notion of needing assistance. The hand that he can raise goes to the back of his head to rub at his undercut. "Yeah, um, if you're okay with that." He's clearly a little embarrassed to admit he could need help, but willing enough to take it.

He slowly and carefully fishes out a change of clothes from the "clean" pile that's on the floor of the closet, grunting as he kneels down. You nervously watch him as he makes his way back to the mattress and dumps what he finds there. At least he doesn't need help walking anymore. He stands by the bed and gives you an awkward half smile. 

You will your insides to calm a bit. You were just helping him change his shirt, that's it; no need to work yourself into a tizzy. You were the one who offered after all. He's a good bit taller than you, so you'll need him to sit. You place your hands on his arms and gently coax him into sitting on the mattress. 

Guzma's gray eyes fix on yours with a mix of amusement and sheepishness. He begins to lift the edge of his white shirt with one hand, slightly revealing his stomach. 

His arm rises as much as it's able too, then you take over, grabbing the shirt from him, your hand brushing against his. You lift it over his good side, holding your breath without meaning to when your fingertips graze his chest. He inhales at your touch, eyes still watching your reactions. One arm out, then over his head, and finally you're able to slide it down the bad side without the need for him to raise his arm. 

You swallow, trying to look anywhere but his newly exposed skin, but stealing glances as he reaches for the clean shirt. You internally chastise yourself for the way your breathing has become a little heavier. This shouldn't be that big a deal, and yet you wish the situation were different. You imagine what it would be like to run your hands along his chest... You're jarred out of your thoughts when you notice the bruising on his bad side. You're openly staring now at the black and blue marks, bashfulness forgotten in wake of your concern. It's the worst bruising you've seen on him so far. It almost looks as if he was kicked. You sit beside him, inspecting the marks. "No wonder that side hurts."

Guzma places a hand lightly over the bruise, trying to shield it from view. "Uh, yeah. Yeah that was - that was pretty bad." 

"He - he kicked you?"

He sighs, looking away from you. "Always gotta get the last word, or, uh, blow in." 

You knew - you always knew - things weren't great with his dad, but you never expected they were quite this bad. Who leaves this kind of damage on their own kid? You push away the unwanted images your mind is conjuring of the fight - Guzma, defeated and on the ground, having already given up when his father cruelly kicks him in the ribs. You place a hand on his knee. "Guzma-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he interrupts you. "It's over now. I don't - I don't wanna - we don't gotta-" He lets out another sigh, pausing before looking back at you. "It was just a rough night, ya know? But it's turning out better than expected." He gives you a small smile as he bumps his shoulder into yours. "Now you gonna help me get this shirt on or are ya content to just leave it off?" 

You shake your head a little, returning his grin. Things clearly aren't okay where his father is concerned, but you know it's best not to push him. He seems to want to forget about what happened right now, and you can understand that - and you're willing to help. "I mean, shirtless is a good look for you." 

And there it is: his wicked grin is back on his face. He leans in close to you, his eyes intently looking into yours. "You wanna give it a try." 

"Maybe some other time," you huff. "I don't really think you're in the best shape for, uh, shenanigans." Though, were that not the case, you know you'd be more than willing to play along with this. You regret not trying to progress things between the two of you sooner. 

He chuckles. "Shenanigans?" 

You take the clean shirt he's still got clutched in his hand. "Yeah, you know." You hold the shirt low to him so he can put the bad arm through first. 

"I don't; you'll have to enlighten me," he teases, face momentarily disappearing as the shirt goes over his head. 

He puts his other arm through and you slide the shirt down, giving him your own playful grin. "Some other time," you insist. 

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Some other time." He moves close to you again, nose brushing yours, seemingly waiting for you to close the gap between the two of you. 

You feel amused at his cautiousness. You're both currently caught in some awkward middle ground, where intimacy is clearly wanted and welcome, but it's not familiar enough and too new to causally pursue. He waits there for your reaction. You lean towards him and softly put your lips on his. There's something still so novel about this that neither one of you seems to be able to resist the urge to smile. 

When you part slightly he whispers, "I'm gonna change my pants now," close to your mouth so you can feel his breath on you. 

You laugh. "I'm sure you can handle that one." 

You turn away and let him finish changing, which takes long enough for you to be concerned, but not long enough to ask. You don't look until he plops back down on the bed beside you, grunting with the pain it causes. 

The swelling around his eye has gotten worse. It probably should be iced. "You got frozen peas or anything like that?"

"You ever known me to eat a vegetable?" he says. 

You brush hair from his forehead, further scrutinizing the injury. "No ice? Nothing? Would probably help your eye." 

Guzma takes your hand in his, lowering it from his face to his side. "Trust me, I'm enjoyin' all the special treatment here, nurse, but you don't need to fret. You don't gotta keep takin' care of me if you don't wanna." 

You feel a little confused at his sudden concern that he's burdening you. "It's no big deal," you reassure him. 

He rubs at the back of his head. "You sure I ain't troubled you enough?" 

You shake your head and gently smile at him. "Nah, not in the slightest." 

"Alright, if you're sure." He grins appreciatively and drops his hand from his undercut. 

You leave to find ice, pain meds, and water. Truthfully, you are tired and it's probably super early in the morning, but you're glad that he called you, and you truly don't mind being here. It might take some time for Guzma to see that. 

You find a tray of ice cubes that you empty into a resealable plastic bag, and refill it under the kitchen sink in case more is needed later. Further sleuthing uncovers a couple more clean towels, and a bottle of over-the-counter pain medication. You return to Guzma's room with all these and a glass of water. 

He's still got an unsure look on his face when you enter, like he's worried this is all too much on you. Definitely going to take some time for him to realize he isn't a burden. You coax him into taking the pills and lying down on the bed so you can place the bag of ice, now with a towel wrapped around it, over his eye. 

He's settled in now, the arm he's able to raise holding the ice in place, while his uncovered eye watches you. You're debating with yourself if it's time to head home when he seems to read your mind. His unoccupied hand takes yours. "Can you... stay? Just don't - please don't leave." The look on his face is pleading and uneasy. You suspect he may not be used to asking such things of someone. While Team Skull was around he had many people around him, but now? Now there's only you. And you can understand why he wouldn't want to be alone. 

Even so you feel your chest jump a little in surprise at the question. You've brought nothing that would make staying over easy, but you're already so exhausted that avoiding even the short journey home sounds appealing. And the expression on his face is one you can't resist. "Of course I'll stay," you tell him. 

He shifts over slightly, wincing as he does, making room on the bed. You take the hint and lay down beside him. Your hand bumps against his and he intertwines his fingers with yours. 

You lie there together, staring at the ceiling for a while. You listen to his slow and steady breathing. This was definitely not how you thought this night would go and you're still somewhat in disbelief. Hell, this isn't even how you thought his coming back to Hau'oli would go. Not that you're not pleased, but it is still strange and unanticipated. You give his hand a small squeeze, like you're trying to make sure this is real. 

His thumb begins rubbing yours in response. "So, uh, berry farming still suck?" he asks. 

"I hate it with every fiber of my being." 

There's a rumble of laughter beside you. "Hey, tell me how you really feel." 

"It's not that bad," you say, thinking. "It's just... not for me." 

"What do you wanna do?"

"I have no idea anymore." And you don't. There's photography sure, but it feels somewhat immature to say that aloud to him. At least your father had always made you feel like it was immature. What were the chances of that actually turning into anything? It never felt like you had a choice in the matter anyway. "Berry farmer's daughter" feels like it's tattooed on you. It'd always been clear what you were supposed to do. 

"Yeah," Guzma says, "Me neither. Does your dad know you don't wanna do it?"

"He probably suspects, but what's the point in actually telling him?" 

"You don't think it'll change anythin'?"

"No, not really." 

"But you're not happy?"

You look over at him. "Are you?"

He doesn't answer, but gives a rueful laugh. "Well, guess that makes two of us."

So much has changed since the both of you have grown, but so much had also stayed the same. Now here you both are, stuck back in the same place you'd been raised. You're quiet as you ponder. 

Guzma shifts the bag of ice on his face. "I've just been thinkin' that, I dunno, after everything... maybe it's just best to be honest with people." 

You shake you head a little in confusion, not sure what he's getting at. 

"I spent a lot of time tryin' to convince everyone that I'm somethin' I'm not, and it," he pauses for a moment. "It got me nothin' but trouble." 

Your mind flashes to the articles you'd read. "And now?" you ask him. 

"Now I don't - I don't have anyone to pretend for. Guess it's kind of a relief and also kinda sucks." 

You can't help your sarcastic laugh. "What, are you saying 'be yourself?'"

He grins. "Yeah, I guess. Just, ya know, be honest."

"Weird advice from Big Bad Guzma."

He huffs and his hand squeezes yours. "Well, let me tell you somethin' in the interest of being honest." 

You glance at him, curious. 

"I've had a thing for you since way back when."

Your chest flutters with surprise and the confirmation of what you'd been hoping. You rise up on your elbows and meet his gaze. "Wait, what? Since when exactly?"

"Jeez, don't look so eager, huh?" he says with a toothy grin. "You, uh, you remember when I caught my Surskit?"

You have a vision of that night on Brooklet Hill. It was warm and hazy, and the moon was full above you. Kukui had wanted to sleep, but Guzma was intent on catching a Surskit. So, the two of you had left him at the camp you'd set up, and went in search of the bug pokemon, which only came out at this hour. The memory is so far away, but you can still see it clearly, still feel the humidity, and hear crickets chirping. It's a memory you're fond of because it feels so emblematic of why your trials had been so memorable. "Yeah," you tell him. "I remember." 

"It was just you and me that night. We spent hours searching together and I'd never had fun like that. We didn't care how late it was; we just kept looking through all that grass. I said somethin' - I don't even remember what - and you just laughed like it was one of the funniest things you'd ever heard. You looked a mess, all covered in mud from us rootin' around, and your hair was everywhere, but you still looked so pretty, laughing there in the night with me, and I felt like - like all I wanted was to make you laugh like that again."

You smile at him. "What you said was, 'We ever find this bug I'm gonna stuff it down Kukui's pants for hiding so long.'"

"Yeah, yeah that was it." Guzma says, grinning at you. "Then you saw one, and we caught it, and you were cheerin' and shit, and that's when I knew I had feelings for ya. Masquerain's still one of my favorites because of that." 

You lean over him. You don't think you can pinpoint a moment like his where you finally realized you had a crush on him. It felt more like something that had always been there below the surface and just became more obvious and less easy to hide as you got older. But you're touched by his admission. His Surskit was your favorite of his pokemon for the same memory. 

He lets the ice pack slip from his eye as you come closer. You press your mouth to his, and he responds eagerly, almost hungrily. So much anticipation has been built into every kiss on both sides that it feels impossible to break away. You bring a leg over one of his and he runs his hand along your thigh. The sensation sends sparks through you. You sigh contentedly and he attempts to rise up off his back and onto his side, but his ribs are still too tender. He flinches and sinks back down onto his back, breathing slightly more labored. 

You sit up, and look him over. "You okay?" you ask for what feels like the millionth time tonight, even though you know the answer. 

Guzma gives you a weak smile though his face is still screwed up in discomfort. "I'm fine. Just... lookin' forward to shenanigans," he says, patting you on the thigh. 

"We'll get you fixed up first." You laugh and pick up the ice pack, gently replacing it on his face.

As you do so, he's suddenly looking so much more sincere. "Thank you, by the way, for - for doing all of this. Things woulda been real shitty without you."

You huff at his unexpected gratitude. "Of course! Can't let my best travel buddy down." You settle back down beside him. "What I wouldn't give to go around the islands again." 

Guzma's quiet for a moment, then he says, "So, why don't we?"

"I - what?"

"Let's just go and get outta here."

"And leave everything behind?"

He shifts around a bit on the bed, so that he's looking at you as much as he's able to. "You don't wanna be here. I don't wanna be here. So why not?"

"And do what exactly?"

"I dunno. Travel, explore, battle, figure stuff out? We'll retrace our steps!"

You laugh. "You asking me to run off with you?"

"Absolutely," he smirks. 

"It would be nice to take pictures somewhere other than Hau'oli." You put a hand to your forehead. "I can't believe I'm considering this." 

He takes your hand again. "Come on! It's a good idea." 

"But the farm-"

"Fuck the farm! Plenty of people around to help your dad. When's the last time you got outta here? Take some time off and figure out if berry farming is even what you wanna do."

You bite your lip, thinking it over. "We could store your stuff at my place; split the rent for that while we're gone. Then you can get rid of this nasty bachelor pad." 

He chuckles. "Jeez, thanks. But yeah, sounds like a plan!"

"You're gonna have to get better first. And do you think you can... lay off the alcohol?" 

Guzma frowns a bit, and his eyebrows furrow. "Hey, you drive a hard bargain, but I mean, with something like this to look forward to? Getting to go around with you? Sure, you got it." 

You turn onto your side and curl up around him, laying your head on his chest. "Then it's a deal." 

His face splits into the biggest grin. "Alright! Island challenge 2.0!"

You stay up for a while longer, making plans for your new adventure, until your eyelids become entirely too heavy to keep open. Guzma's breathing becomes even and relaxed as he falls asleep with his head resting on yours. You doze off entangled with him, your thoughts on all that lies ahead for you both together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like people discredit fanfiction a lot. But honestly? It's been really important to me on a creative level. Not only did it get me back into writing, it let me experiment. It's been a sort of playground that's been vital to growth in that it lets me challenge myself in various ways where the stakes are low, but I still have an audience. You know what I mean? 
> 
> That's not to say that what I write here doesn't matter, because everything I've written for you all actually matters a lot to me. But I don't have to show this writing to anyone irl, or submit it for an assignment, or turn it into a publisher. There's no real expectations or constraints other than what I decide on. I decide what I'd like to do and how I want things to be. That freedom is what allows me to also decide what my task is. 
> 
> And very often I'll frame chapters or even whole fics for myself as a challenge, like with this one where I decided it would be 5 chapters and I had to tell a story with that constraint. And even last chapter I sorta challenged myself to try to write a similar scenario to one in another fic of mine and see if I could do it better. I hope I succeeded there haha. 
> 
> This chapter I entitled my challenge "junk food" and decided to see how fluffy and feels-y I could make this entry.


	5. Can I get a little more from you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! And thus we come to the end of another fic. As always, thank you so much for your kudos and comments throughout this! And thank you to everyone who's talked to me about it on Tumblr! These things are literally why I've kept writing. I would not still be creating Guzma fic without you guys letting me know you wanna see it, so thank you! If you'd like to follow me on tumblr, my Guzma side blog is Bugaboozma. It's mostly reblogs of Guzma and Team Skull stuff I like and updates on my fics. 
> 
> This chapter may be a bit shorter, as it's really more of an epilogue in a way. Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for the end notes where I'll let you know what I'm writing next!

You stand in front of one of the only blank patches of wall in your apartment, sipping from a cup of Tapu cocoa. It's been bare for years now; a hole amongst the color and chaos of the rest of your home. No, your decorating habits are not exactly typical, but they are very you. Your life had been so boring since you'd given into the pressure to pursue berry farming, but that didn't stop you from filling the walls with excitement. This patch though, this one you had been saving - for what, you weren't sure. 

Until now. 

There's a loud "thump" sound as Guzma unceremoniously lets a box he's holding fall from his hands to the floor. It's the last bit of his belongings from his apartment. "What're you staring at the wall for?" he asks, coming towards you. 

"I think all the new pictures are gonna go here when we get back," you answer, still surveying the blank space and trying to imagine what it will be filled with. 

Guzma stands beside you, hands on his hips. "And we'll put 'Island Challenge 2.0' above it."

"You wanna label it?" You give him a dubious look. 

He smirks at you. "Yeah, why not?"

"Nothing else is labeled. You don't gotta label it, you just gotta let it be! Let it blend in with the rest, you know?"

"Hey, just you wait and see," he says, playfully grabbing your mug of cocoa from you and taking a sip before returning it. "This trip is gonna be so awesome you're gonna wanna set it apart." 

You laugh. "But we're not even really taking the challenge. We're too old. We're just... traveling." 

"Eh, so it's a challenge of our own design. And hey! It's one I'll get to finish this time." He puts a hand around your waist and gently pulls you towards him. "And things'll be a little different this time around." 

"We're not gonna slap a bunch of letters above it." 

He turns you toward him. "Hey, whatever you want. As long as I don't have to be in a buncha the pictures." 

"Of course you're gonna be in them!" It was definitely difficult on occasion before to convince Guzma to be in pictures. You'd hoped that would have changed by now. 

He rolls his eyes at you and grins. "We'll see." He bends down to bring his lips to yours and you can taste the cocoa on his mouth. These gestures of affection have become a frequent occurrence, but they're still so new that you can't help smiling like fool every time. Not to mention you're quite enjoying the "shenanigans." Guzma leaves you to continue packing. 

A few weeks have passed since the night of his fight with his father. There's barely any traces of the event left on him now. During his recovery, you'd spent a great deal of time over at his place. You'd suddenly had a lot of time to spare after you'd finally confronted your own father with some honesty. 

It had not gone well. At least, not at first. 

Your father was, understandably, hurt and upset that his only daughter did not want to take over the family business, especially since you'd never said this to him directly before. There was an uneasy couple days where he barely talked to you and you wondered if you'd made a mistake. You'd begun to resign yourself to taking back what you said, when he came to your apartment one evening and explained that, beyond anything else, he wanted you to be happy. So you were free to follow whatever would lead you to your joy, and you would have his blessing. You hugged your father, and just like that, a tense situation you'd been avoiding for years was resolved. 

Other things would not be so easy. 

It's difficult for Guzma to restrict his alcohol intake at first. With the fight so fresh on his mind, being at least a little buzzed seems to be his distraction of choice from how messed up things are. But the more time you spend with him, the less time he spends emptying bottles. There's still more recovery to make on many fronts for him, but you're hoping this trip will make for a good start. 

There's many things you've planned out for your travels, including places you want to revisit and people you'd like to see. For Guzma it also seems to be a journey of forgiveness. He's mentioned he wants to "make it up" to Plumeria, Nanu, some of the grunts from Team Skull, and others. He hasn't talked to any of them since coming back to Hau'oli and he seems to be harboring a lot of guilt concerning each of them. 

In fact, he's got many worries in general when it comes to Team Skull and how Alola will react to their former leader being out and about. Disbanding the gang did not seem to affect how much people are afraid of him. He's seen mothers clutch their children closer when they pass him, people have crossed streets to avoid him, and even abruptly left stores he's walked into. He's felt the stares, and heard the gossip, and all of it has done nothing to ease his troubled mind. Hard not to drink when it feels like bottles are the only ones that don't run from you. 

You do your best to reassure him, and he admits that having you with him will help at the very least, but truthfully? You don't know exactly what will happen or how people will react. But you figure hiding away sure won't help anything. In a way, this trip is also going to be Alola's reintroduction to Guzma, and you'd do your best to make sure it's a good one.

And for you this trip is going to be a means of rediscovering who you are. You feel set free. You are no longer just the berry farmer's daughter. With your camera in hand, you're prepared to find your own path as you travel the islands. You leave the blank, but promising wall to finish your own packing. 

 

"Guzma, come on. We should get moving," you say to him.

Beside you in the bed he groans and pulls a pillow over his head. 

You attempt to remove the pillow, but he's holding tight to it. "We already slept in!"

He finally allows you to take the pillow from him, saying, "Yeah, but what's a little while longer?" His arm finds its way around your middle and pulls you back down to the bed, close to him. "Let ya boy sleep."

For a few moments, you give in - it's hard not to. Out of all the new and developing things between the two of you, waking up with him is one of the most recent and exciting. You rest your head against his chest, feeling his breath gently rustle your hair. You stay there like that for a while, trying to commit to memory the way this feels; how you still can't believe it in some ways. 

But you don't want to waste too much of the day. You try to move apart from him, but he holds you in place. "Guzma," you tell him. 

Heaving a dramatic sigh, he finally relents and allows you to sit up. 

"Hey, daylights burning! You want to get on the road, don't you?"

He sits up with a series of grumbles. "Yeah, yeah, I'm workin' on it, Nurse," he says. "Nurse" was seemingly becoming his preferred nickname for you. 

You give him a quick kiss on the cheek as he rubs at his eyes then get up from the bed. 

 

Guzma is not a morning person in the slightest, even if "morning" for him is now falling closer and closer to the afternoon. So though it's slow going, eventually you're both finally, dressed, packed, and completely ready to head out the door. 

You lock your apartment behind you, a little sad to leave it, but far more excited about the journey ahead of you. You turn to face Guzma and smile. Both of you have backpacks weighed down with everything you might need, and you're feeling like you're eleven again. Camera in hand, you pull him into the sunlight for the best picture possible. 

"What, already?" he asks. 

"Yep!" You hold the camera out in front of the two of you. 

Guzma rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and looks at the camera. He never was too fond of pictures. 

You nudge him with your shoulder. "Hey, it's a new beginning! You wanna start it like that?" 

He huffs, and gives you his best sarcastic smile. "You gonna make this a habit? Me bein' in pictures?" He puts an arm around you and bends down so that your faces are close.

You snap the picture when he turns to the camera. "You'll get used to it," you tell him, grinning. 

You're about to finally set off, when there's a familiar looking figure running towards you holding something in his arms. You both squint in the sunlight when whoever it is yells, "hey!"

It's a voice the two of you have heard many times, and sure enough, Kukui stops in front of you, panting. He's clutching a Rowlet to him. "Glad I caught you before you left!" 

Guzma rubs at the back of his neck nervously. While you might still talk to Kukui on occasion, this is the first Guzma has seen or spoken to him in a long time. He says nothing as you greet Kukui. 

But Kukui is irrepressible and completely unfazed by Guzma's taciturn response. "Hey, cousin!" 

Guzma only mumbles "Hey."

"It's good to see you again," Kukui says. The Rowlet in his arms blinks at the two of you. 

Guzma nods. 

The Rowlet bites down on Kukui's wrist making him jump and yelp in surprise. He releases the pokemon and it immediately goes for Guzma's fluffy tufts of white hair. 

"What the hell!?" Guzma attempts to pull the bird from his head, but it nips at his fingers, warding him away as it settles down atop his head. A few bites and screeches later, Guzma gives up and turns back to Kukui. "What is this?" 

You and Kukui have barely been containing your laughter. "It's a Rowlet!" he tells him. 

"I know that! What's it doing here?!" 

"Well.." Kukui begins. 

You reach up to pet the bird, but it snaps at you. 

"This Rowlet's been stuck with Hala for a while since none of the trial goers would choose it. Poor thing keeps getting passed over." 

Guzma attempts again to remove the creature from his head, failing once more.

"You see, it's got a bit of an attitude problem." 

"You should know something about that," you tell Guzma, laughing as he struggles. 

Kukui continues. "So I was thinking, since you two are going on your own honorary island challenge, that you should take an Alolan starter with you. Couple of seasoned trainers like you two should be able to handle a little rowdy bird, right?"

Guzma grimaces. "You want this thing to go with us? This ain't a bug. In fact, this is like, the complete opposite of a bug." 

"Well, maybe it's time to expand your horizons?" you say. 

"You actually wanna take it?"

"I don't know, it's kinda cute, even if it is making a nest in your hair." 

"You'd be doing me and Hala a big favor," Kukui adds. 

Guzma sighs. "I can't believe this."

You give Kukui your thanks and a hug goodbye. Then you both turn to Guzma. 

"What?" he asks. 

Kukui holds his arms wide. 

Guzma stares in exasperation. "Hasn't this day been rough enough already?" 

"Hey, you wanted to make it up to people, right?" You say, giving him an amused smile. "Who better to start with than Kukui?" 

He gives you a half smile in spite of his grumpiness and opens his arms. "Yeah, yeah, alright." 

As they hug, the Rowlet sitting in Guzma's hair attacks Kukui's hat with all the ferocity it can muster until they part. You snap a picture. 

Holding your camera out in front of you, you move between them and take a picture just like the first you'd ever taken with them the day you left on your challenge all those years ago. While Kukui smiles for the photo, Guzma fusses over the Rowlet, making for a snapshot extremely reminiscent of the original. 

You all chat a few moments longer, Guzma beginning to lighten up and become a bit friendlier before Kukui takes his leave. 

Now, it's just the two of you - or really three of you, with the aggressive Rowlet that refuses to leave the safety of Guzma's hair - as you start down the streets of Hau'oli.

"You ready for this?" you ask him. 

Guzma takes your hand. "Nah, but we'll figure it out."

You walk onward to familiar routes for a new adventure. 

~~~

There's a collection of photos on the wall of your apartment; a collage of pictures and items from your recent trip around Alola. Above it are the words "Island Challenge 2.0." While there are many some of your favorites include: 

-You and Guzma outside your apartment. He's got his big sarcastic grin on his face, even though he'd just been complaining about being in photos. 

-Guzma and Kukui hugging. Kukui looks pleased and Guzma looks disgruntled. The Rowlet in his hair looks angry as it fights a fierce battle with Kukui's hat. 

-You between Guzma and Kukui. Kukui's got the brightest smile beside you, while Guzma is threatening the owl on his head. 

-Guzma's Golisopod happily exploring Melemele Meadow. 

-Guzma's Golisopod not-so-happily roaring at the tiny Rowlet that is screeching right back at him. 

-Guzma talking with some former Team Skull grunts and the absolutely ecstatic look on their faces upon seeing him. 

-Plumeria staring Guzma down with her arms crossed, as he tries to explain things to her with his hand nervously rubbing at his undercut. 

-Guzma in a malasada shop making awkward conversation with apprehensive locals as Rowlet hangs upside-down from his hair, attempting to steal the malasada from his hands. 

-Hau hugging Guzma as Guzma rolls his eyes and pats him on the back. Rowlet is atop his head screaming in rage at the child. 

-Rowlet perched on Guzma's arm and behaving for once. Guzma's petting the owl on the head and his smile is genuine and holds no trace of sarcasm - another rare occurrence. 

-The two of you together on Brooklet Hill, smiling in the moonlight. 

-Guzma's Masquerain flying above the grass where you'd found it as a Surskit. The moon is bright above the water in the background. 

-Guzma and Nanu both staring at one another grumpily. A meowth curls around Nanu's feet as Rowlet stares him down. Guzma's expression and the owl's are remarkably similar. 

-Guzma at a luau with a Comfey around his neck and looking none too amused. 

-You at the luau laughing, as Guzma had just taken your camera from you and turned it on you. 

-The two of you in Malie Garden. Rowlet standing with one leg on each of your heads. 

-Guzma standing with his back to you in front of the gates of Po Town. 

-Gladion and Guzma shaking hands on Aether Paradise. Gladion's Silvally stands behind him protectively. Guzma looks apologetic, but Gladion looks unsure. 

-Guzma and Hala in the moment that Hala offers him further training if he wants it. This is technically the 57th picture in which you've caught Guzma rolling his eyes. 

There's many more and not all had fit on the space of the wall. There's photos with familiar faces and new ones. Many of the trial captains have passed on their roles. Though you're not taking the challenge, you visit the trial locations, snapping pictures as you go and watching as kids earn their Z crystals. It's a little bittersweet when you reach the point where Guzma had given up. It's mostly new territory to him after that. 

Not all the pictures are so happy and picturesque. You might not put them on the wall, but you still have them saved. There'd been growing to do for the both of you on your new adventure and along with that came some growing pains. You'd even had to play nurse again after Guzma had managed to get into another drunken fight. His drinking is nearly nonexistent by the time you get back, but there were a few times throughout your travels that it was a struggle for him. You'd disagree sometimes, and there were moments where Guzma needed space to process things. But still, there was no quitting the challenge this time. You both persevered. 

It's not a perfect journey, but it's memorable, and your good times far outweigh your bad. There was so much you discovered about yourself and each other. 

There's many, many pictures you've got both on the wall and stored away, but your favorite is the very last one you took. 

-It's nighttime, and you've just got back to your apartment. You take one last picture together. There's no grumbles from Guzma this time. He gladly pulls you towards him as Rowlet lays between both of your heads, spreading its wings. Its attitude is far better now, but its stubborn, refusing to evolve. You'd been okay with this though, as at least it stayed cute. You and Guzma smile in the light of the moon, Rowlet's wings fanned out behind you, happily smiling into the camera before returning to the home you now share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so ending things with happily walking off into the distance is like my signature at this point, so you know it had to be included here. As I've said in other notes, I am 100% a sucker for fluff, hope, and happy endings, so I'll include them wherever I can. Which is not to say I don't like angst - in fact I think most of my fics have included a fair amount of angst - but I just gotta get my happy ending. 
> 
> Also I just decided to give the Sun and Moon anime a try, hence why they get a Rowlet. Also inspired by fanart I reblogged recently. 
> 
> Ha, it was also a little hard for me to stick to my challenge of just five chapters with this one. Part of me is so tempted to write out Island Challenge 2.0. We'll see. I just know it'd wind up being another 50K word fic if I do... which I was trying to avoid. BUT they're also just so much damn fun. 
> 
> OH and yeah, no smut this one. I wasn't sure if that was obvious with the M vs E rating. I'm not opposed to writing it again, but I admit it's not always my favorite to write. I dunno, I always feel like I don't quite get it right? Not to mention I get far more invested in writing the things leading up to the smut if that makes sense. What do you think? Is smut a dealbreaker? 
> 
> If you want more Guzma stuff from me, well, you're in luck because it's all I write. In case you haven't checked them out, my two completed ones are:
> 
> -Still Evolving: My first fic on Ao3 and a much longer post-game redemption arc that is Guzma/Reader  
> -Beauty and the Boss: A Guzma/Reader Beauty and the Beast AU and, not gonna lie, probably my favorite of my own fics 
> 
> Then there's my two in-progress ones:
> 
> -The Gray Stuff: This is extra one-shots that take place within Beauty and the Boss  
> -Skull in the Family: A Guzma and Team Skull origin story. Technically a prequel to Beauty and the Boss, but because it's a prequel, you don't have to have read that one to get it. 
> 
> As for what I'm working on next... well, I'd really like to finish Skull in the Family. When I'm done it'll probably be a similar length to my longer fics. I have a feeling that one will be on and off for me, as I don't get a ton of feedback on that one. But, it's like my baby so even though it's not Guzma/Reader, I hope you'll give it a try! I'll admit that my writing motivation seems to be almost entirely reliant on people's responses to what I post. Wish I weren't that way, but, well, I can't seem to help it. 
> 
> I've also discussed before wanting to do a series of one shots that are just a bunch of AUs with Guzma and Team Skull, and I've got some ideas for that one, so hopefully I'll get cracking on it. I've also considered doing some more short fics based on songs like this one. 
> 
> And hey, I'm sure when Ultra Sun and Moon come out there will be even more to work with! 
> 
> Alright, this has gotten quite long, like my notes always seem to, so I should probably wrap this up. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, and every other way you've shown interest in this fic and others. You guys are amazing and writing for you has brought me so much joy. I hope you'll stick with me for the next one!

**Author's Note:**

> Haha so this was originally going to be a one shot, but asklfdhaj there's something wrong with me. I just gotta turn everything I write into some epic. But! Because I don't want this to turn into some big project, I'm trying to limit myself to either 15K words total or 5 chapters. We'll see.


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